


On This Day

by knopflerpettybowie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Halloween, Oneshot, POV First Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-01
Updated: 2017-11-01
Packaged: 2019-01-27 21:47:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12591220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knopflerpettybowie/pseuds/knopflerpettybowie
Summary: "You are forever held in my memory, and on this day, the memories I hold are free to spring forth, bringing along the emotions that they always will."





	On This Day

     On this day, I am in my quarters at Hogwarts, sitting in the black armchair next to the fireplace that I never bother lighting. I am used to the cold and darkness that come with living near my classroom and my former common room down in the dungeons; I am in fact rather satisfied with my living arrangements here, down at the bottom of the castle, isolated from the other professors and the rest of the castle. It is quiet and peaceful, and I can enjoy my solitude, reading or brewing potions to pass the time when I am not teaching. But on this day, the darkness seems to be slowly gnawing away at me from the inside out as my heavy teaching robes and frock coat lie forgotten on the floor and I sit in just my black shirt and trousers. The cold is joining the darkness, biting at my skin as combined the two forces try devour me alive. And both the darkness and the cold are joined by their old friend grief, who helps them in their quest to destroy my very essence of being, right down to my very soul. They continue their mission, unhindered by me, as I sit, still as can be, in my black armchair, holding onto a muggle photograph from years ago. To see this picture on this day is ripping me to shreds, for only one of the photo's occupants is still with the living, and that person is holding said photo. The other occupant, you, died on this day, last year. Murdered by the Dark Lord himself, all because of me. I told the Dark Lord the prophecy, he decided it was about your son, and he made up his mind to go after your family...and when the Dark Lord goes after someone, there is no escape from his wrath, no fleeing from the end of his wand pointing right at you as you think your last thoughts before your mind leaves for good. And you, the woman in the photo, you died to protect your son, sacrificed yourself to the Avada Kedavra curse in a desperate attempt to spare your child's life. And you were successful. You died instead. You died because of me. And I will never forgive myself.

    On this day, I stare at your long red hair cascading down your back in the photograph I hold as I try to remember the exact moment it was taken. You are smiling, radiantly as you always used too, at some now forgotten joke or exciting sight, or maybe even just at the camera that was held by one of your parents. The smile reaches your brilliantly green eyes, glinting in the sunlight. The one crooked tooth you used to always complain about is clearly visible, but I don't see how you could think it would make you any less beautiful. I am sitting in the background, under a tree in the corner of the photograph. I shouldn't be there. I never should have met you. You were my first and only real friend in my life. You were there for me when I needed you most, and I repaid you by joining the Death Eaters and getting you killed. I never deserved anyone like you. I'm sorry... I am so sorry. My remorse is infinite. I don't know if you will ever be able to forgive me, and I don't deserve your forgiveness any more than I ever deserved to so much as meet you, but I am sorry. You are forever held in my memory, and on this day, the memories I hold are free to spring forth, bringing along the emotions that they always will.  A tear runs down my face, leaving a wet track down my cheek, and more follow suit. I taste the bitter saltiness as they run down to my lips as I am unable to stop them. Until this day comes again, I say for the last time: I'm sorry.

     On this day, I sit in my black armchair, my face buried in my arms, my sleeves covered in tear stains, head aching as the tears continue to flow. I am no longer sitting still but rocking back in forth, desperately trying to stop the tears but knowing my attempts are futile.

     And on this day, I allow myself to think, let myself shout out in my mind: I miss you, Lily. I miss you so much, I have missed you since 5th year when we stopped talking. And I loved you, Lily. I thought I loved you when I first laid eyes on you, I knew I loved you when I became friends with you, and I still love you now. And I always will, Lily. Always.


End file.
